


Desirous Hunger (Love is a banquet)

by ThatwasJustaDream



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: 1_million_words, Devotion, Friends to Lovers, Lust, M/M, Season 5 Spoilers, Season 6 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-15
Updated: 2013-09-15
Packaged: 2017-12-26 14:50:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatwasJustaDream/pseuds/ThatwasJustaDream
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's 'Plan A' to get Castiel laid may  have ended with a whimper and a royally pissed off girl, but Dean wasn't giving up yet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desirous Hunger (Love is a banquet)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kaige68](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaige68/gifts).



> Kaige68 on 1_million_words over at LJ wanted me to take a shot at the slash that awesome brothel scene in "Free to be You and Me" nearly screamed for. And so, slash she is getting! Sorry for the moody ending but oh... just watched end of S6 and... ouch.

“The night's young,” Dean was still chuckling as he flipped the ignition. “You should be hip deep in ‘pretty blonde thing’ and it’s your own damn fault you’re not… but there’s time to turn it around.”

Cas shrugged. Dean’s deep amusement over their misadventure at the brothel made him happy, too, and traces of a smile were lingering on his lips.

“No. I said I’d be content to sit quietly in the room and...”

“That’s … sad. Listen, I tossed you in the deep end, I know, and I’m sorry. You looked like you swallowed a frog. But there’s gotta be _something_ you crave?”

Dean’s hand lingered on the keys, foot on the brake, waiting. There was still the outside chance they’d nab Raphael without mortal injury to either of them, but… if Cas’s odds of surviving were as poor he seemed to believe they were? No _way_ he was letting him spend his final hours staring at a wall, alone.

“What I want… doesn’t matter.”

“Says who?” 

He was ready to deflect any argument against them getting well fed, ripped or randomly laid when he saw it; Cas’ jaw tightening, a microscopic head shake, his eyes narrowing into dark blue slits full of ‘please, don’t make me say it.’

“ _Dean…_ ”

“Oh….” 

He looked away. Not embarrassed. More like he realized a steaming pile of ‘uncomfortable’ was lying right there and he’d still managed to step in it. 

“I know you, uh, want me. I mean, I’ve seen it when you look at me. Who wouldn’t see it? And in fairness, maybe I’ve eye humped you back a time or two. But Cas, I can’t.”

“This is why it doesn’t matter, what I want. You’re too... conflicted.”

“Exactly. I make _arrows_ look not straight. Let’s be blunt, I’m a full-on poon hound.”

“Stop…”

“Hounds don’t change their stripes. Like tigers. You shave their fur off? The stripes are still there, down deep in their _skin_. Stripes! In their skin. ‘Cause they’re…”

“Dean….”

“…tigers. What?”

“I don’t think you heard me. I said you’re conflicted. Not averse. Conflicted.”

Cas leaned in, then, his gaze determined and what Dean did was not lean away. Or say stop. Or push him off. All to his unending surprise.

What he did do is draw in a sigh, something between shock and anticipation as warm, surprisingly soft lips brushed left and right and left against his. Then Cas stopped, and the sweet, hot tip of a tongue pressed in, searching, giving Dean’s tongue a poke and then stroke after firm stroke between deep, slow, sucking kisses. 

He wasn’t sure which was the bigger shock; Castiel getting up the nerve, or the way his own body was responding. He felt himself kissing back, jaw going loose, blood _flying_ south so fast it made him dizzy. A warm, tingling ache bloomed in his gut, widened and built, making his breathing speed up and go shallow, and… all _real_ , holy crap, this was _happening_.

Teeth dug into Dean’s lower lip as Cas retreated and _that_ broke the spell, made Dean’s heart skip, his throat tighten, his foot fly clean off the brake. They rolled forward and Dean jammed his foot back down, and they each got a heck of a jolt.

“The room, Dean,” Cas ran a thumb over the spot he’d just nipped. “Take us there. Please.”

~~*~~

He figured maybe Cas would get shy on the drive back, but no; Cas had flipped off his coat and that black jacket and attacked the moment the door shut; had Dean’s shirt open, pants loose around his thighs and sliding slowly down toward the ground in seconds as they swayed, bodies bumping.

Turned out Cas wasn’t just a decent kisser, he was awesome; hungry, just the right amount of clenched jaw alternating with deep and soft and wet. But not sloppy, not at all, not even when he pinned Dean’s head against the wall and went to freaking town on him.

Handsy little bastard, too.

Cas’ fingertips roamed, exploring; one hand traced his side, his back, sending goose bumps all along his flank and making him shiver, abs tightening and twitching as the heel of the other found the perfect spot at the base of Dean’s cock to give him a sweet little ball/prostate/dick rub.

Cas let go of a long, growling sound when Dean pushed into his hand and groaned into his mouth, not letting up at all until Dean tore loose and gave him a push.

“Slow down. C’mon…this is not a race.” He toed his own shoes away, trying to collect his splintered, scattered thoughts.

“Sorry,” Cas looked chastened but still voracious, eyes burning.

“Don’t be too sorry. _Fuck_ , you’re on fire. Didn’t think you had this in you.”

He used the lull to undo Cas’ pants, starting in on his shirt to slowly strip it away, too.

They were both still breathing heavy and the sight and sound of it, Cas openly _wanting_ him made Dean’s fingers fumble as he worked the buttons.

“I didn’t have to threaten to push you this time, did I buddy? Chastity wasn’t your type, I guess. Still… wherever your desires lie, it doesn’t explain how you picked up these sweet skills you posess all the sudden?”

“I did… research.”

“You read up?”

“No,” Cas had his eyes on Dean’s hands as they undid him, and he nuzzled in when Dean leaned in to mouth along his shoulder, his neck, his words coming slower, heavier as his excitement built again. “I sought out Lust and …asked it for … help. In case we ever…. _ohhhh_ … Dean, I wanted… I want this to be _good_ for you.”

“Woah. Lust? As in the primal urge?”

“It’s not an… urge it’s a …being, no less than Death or Famine or...”

“Lust gave you tips on how to work a boy into a frenzy?”

“No. It showed me.”

“Excuse me?”

Dean stopped, fingers twisted in the waistband of Castiel’s boxers, about to pull them down. He watched the blush that was flushing Cas’ cheeks red moving south to color his neck and chest pink as he nodded, letting Dean separate him from his last shred of clothing.

“Oh, you lucky, lucky bastard. You _fucked Lust_?”

“It was the other way around. The first time. Lust most definitely fucked me. But then, the second time…”

“Cas, that had to be _crazy_ intense. I’m not sure I’ll ever stop being jealous of you.”

“Don’t be,” a hint of a smile returned to his lips- a rueful one. “Lust not tempered by affection? Kind of a dick. Or a bitch. Or… sometimes both at once.”

“Yeah, I can see how that might be. Still… damn.” Dean pulled him to the bed by one hand, flipping back the spread as they crawled in. “You didn’t have to go to that extreme. I’ll be happy with a sweet little twist in the sheets, Cas, maybe rub each other off, cock to cock? That’d be plenty…”

“No. That won’t be… plenty. I see what you picture when you dream about this.”

“You actually see all that… white noise that rolls around in our heads?” Dean pulled him closer and tried to cut the chatter with another kiss, but Castiel had other ideas, sliding south, fingers and tongue tracing over Dean’s skin again. “I hate to tell you, but people dream all sorts of shit they’d never really ….”

“You picture me taking you in my mouth, sucking you to completion….” He kept touching, kissing him between words, over his chest, his ribs, his stomach, and Dean gave in, rocking against him unconsciously, shivering at the words, eyes falling closed. “Sound right?”

“Fuck, yeah. I guess… maybe I do, Cas.”

“You imagine me turning you over, taking you, fucking you until you’re hard again, stroking you ‘til you come in my hand. And I’m giving you that-- all of it and more. Now. Because Dean… _that’s_ what _I_ want.”

“Ohhh... lighten up on that kind of talk, please, or I’m not gonna make it to your mouth,” Dean said, then shouted a word not permissible in front of your grandmother, coming up on his elbows when Castiel's teeth found that one damn spot high and deep back on his thigh. 

Moth- _ther_ …. fifty bucks said Lust coached him extra thoroughly on that little move. 

Later, he couldn’t decide which part had been the very best. It might have been when he was sitting against the wall at the top of the bed; pulling Cas’ head back from his lap by his soft, black hair to lock sex-hazed gazes with him right before he shot his load against the back of his tongue. Or maybe when Cas took him on his side, their legs twined, talking filth in his ear and taunting him with his fingertips, his thumb teasing at the head of his Dean’s dick until he was begging for “one good _tug_ , please _now, fuck_ , please, _c’mon_ …” 

But it was the grand finale he’d remember- how Castiel had let go, too, shouting his name as he shook apart in Dean's very fucked-out body, sinking into his arms, spent. Done.

~~*~~

“So what does Lust look like? It’s a hottie, right? Big tits, sparkling eyes, child-bearing hips?”

Cas sighed at the question but didn’t look up, cheek on Dean’s shoulder. Dean could tell he was enjoying the moment, the smell of his skin, fingers making small, light circles around Dean’s left nipple.

“No, seriously,” He raised his head from the pillow and let it drop again, one arm behind his head and the other loose over Cas’ back. “Tell me. I _swear_ , I won’t ask you about this ever again, but I need to know for my own pathetic, dirty, human imagination…”

“Lust appears to each according to their needs.” 

“So what did it look like to you?”

Castiel answered with his eyes, pulling away just enough to meet his, to reach and run a hand, his fingers over Dean’s cheek, through his hair, over his body. He didn’t stop when Dean’s eyes darkened or when he flinched.

“Damn, Cas. A little too much…adoration. It’s embarrassing.”

“I didn’t tell it to appear to me in your form. Wearing your face. It simply did. And…you asked, so I answered.”

“I’ll fail you. Or you’ll let me down. We’ll hurt each other, ‘cause that’s always what happens _every_ …”

“Dean….” 

“Yeah?”

“Sleep. Let me think through our strategy, our next steps or Raphael … we may not have time to let each other down.”

“Point taken,” Dean settled in, body relaxing and Cas thought he might be asleep until he slurred out a few more words. “Not leaving? While I’m out? Right?”

“Of course not.”

Cas stayed as still as possible, letting him drift off, glad that as experienced as Dean was he could only see so many moves out on the chessboard. 

He couldn’t begin to imagine all the myriad ways they might lose or wound each other. If Dean and he ever clashed, if he ever felt crossed? Cas knew Dean could turn on him. Nothing was impossible.

“Adamant,” he whispered, looking up at the sleep-loosened face. “Stubborn…”

He set his finger’s on Dean’s temple and pictured the past hour, willed that frail human memory to encode it all as deeply as possible. 

“And mine. You're mine as I am yours. Always.”

Dean didn’t move, but Cas felt the frission of electrochemical energy that said it had taken, it was sinking in deep. 

It gave him hope; maybe they could win tomorrow, buy themselves some more time - the slice of forever where they would be everything they'd ever be to each other. 

It would never be enough. Which only made it all the more precious and perfect - no matter how it played out.


End file.
